The Lost City of Faar

by D. J. MacHale

  “What’s the do here?” asked Spader.

  “I’m guessing there’s going to be some kind of contest,” I answered. “My friend Loor is—” That’s when I saw her. The last warrior to march in was Loor. Though she was younger than the rest, she looked every bit as formidable.

  “That’s her,” I said to Spader while pointing to Loor.

  “That’s your friend?” Spader asked with a mixture of surprise and awe. “She’s . . . she’s . . . amazing.”

  Spader stood staring at Loor, unable to take his eyes off her. I finally had to give him a shove to bring him back to reality.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said. “She’s not your type.”

  “What type is she?” Spader asked.

  “The type who has no interest in anything but kicking ass. If you think I’m kidding, watch.”

  The warrior teams stood on opposite sides of the arena and began the final act of suiting up. Here was the odd part. Each of them had these things that looked like wooden stakes that stuck out to the sides from their elbows and their knees. The stakes were about six inches long. One team had red stakes, the other had green. When they put their helmets on I saw that they also had a wooden stake that stuck straight up like those World War I German helmets. In all, each warrior had five wooden stakes sticking out of them. I had no clue what those things were for but I have to tell you, they looked pretty goofy.

  Each team stood in a line, shoulder to shoulder, facing their opponents across the arena. A Batu guy wearing a bright yellow robe walked to the center, where he planted a stick in the ground. On the end of the stick he hung what looked like a necklace made of large, golden teeth. He then silently walked back and entered the grandstand. From the safety of the stands, he turned back to the playing field, raised a golden horn to his lips, and let out one short note.

  Instantly everyone in the stands fell silent and focused their attention on the warriors below. I had a moment of fear for Loor. I had no idea how dangerous this was going to be. I knew she could handle herself, but what was the point of this game? I knew nothing of Zadaa and their customs and feared this would be one of those “fight to the death” type spectacles. There was nothing I could do but watch and hope she’d be okay.

  The Batu in the yellow robe then gave one long, sustained blast from the horn. All the warriors raised their wooden clubs toward him in salute. Then Yellow Robe stopped blowing his horn, and the battle began. Instantly both teams of warriors let out war whoops and charged toward each other. Loor was right there with them. I wanted to close my eyes, but that would be disrespectful. Whatever was going to happen, I needed to see it.

  The opposing teams clashed, swinging their clubs. I quickly saw the purpose of the wooden stakes that protruded from their bodies. They were the targets. This wasn’t about knocking each other’s heads off, it was about trying to knock their opponents’ wooden stakes off. It was all about speed, and balance and blocking shots and returning shots that were well aimed. Of course, as good as they were, many shots missed their mark and there were a lot of painful body shots and whacks to the head. But this was not a blood feud. This was sport. I’m sure the shots stung and there would be dozens of black and blue marks the next day, but nobody was going to die here. Once I realized this I relaxed and tried to enjoy the spectacle.

  Loor was on the red team. The green team was bigger and brawnier, but the red team seemed faster and more agile. I wasn’t sure which was more important in a battle like this, speed or power.

  It looked like it was going to be power. One red-team warrior had all five of his stakes knocked off in about five seconds. He dropped his club and ran off the field. Now I was starting to get the rules. You could keep fighting until all five of your stakes got knocked off. Then you were out.

  Loor was brilliant. She kept to the perimeter of the fighting and took on all comers. She was being more defensive than aggressive, which really wasn’t her style. But it seemed to be working because most warriors had at least one stake knocked off and she still had all five. She jumped and spun and knocked away attack after attack like some kind of fevered Jackie Chan clone.

  “She’s the smartest one out there,” said Spader. “And quite beautiful, too.”

  I was beginning to think that Spader was really happy about coming to meet Loor.

  Then one of the green warriors dove for the golden necklace and began to run off with it. Instantly three red warriors attacked him. The guy didn’t have a chance. His stakes were knocked off immediately and he dropped the necklace. Now I understood the end game. This wasn’t just about being the last one standing. My guess was that if someone grabbed the necklace and made it back to his area, then his team would win. It was like capture the flag. A really scary, painful version of capture the flag.

  I then began to see that this wasn’t just a wild clash. There actually was some strategy going on. Loor’s red team took more of the defensive role and assigned a few warriors to guard the necklace. The green team, on the other hand, was all about attacking. It was every man for himself, and so far their strategy was winning. The red team had lost three warriors and several others had only three stakes or fewer. The green team had lost only one warrior and were pressing the attack. It looked as if the way to win this game was to attack with reckless abandon and overpower your adversary.

  But that’s when things changed. The remaining red team warriors had gradually worked themselves into a ring around the golden necklace. The green team was too busy slashing and hitting to realize they were being outmaneuvered. Also, the green team had been attacking so hard that they were beginning to get tired. Their swings weren’t as forceful as they had been moments before. I guessed it took more energy to attack than to defend, and the red team still looked fresh.

  The red now had formed a tight circle around the necklace and were able to fend off the attacking green warriors with much less effort. Every red-team member was in the circle except for Loor. She was still on the perimeter, playing it safe. Then one of the red-team warriors let out a loud yelp. It must have been a signal, because that’s when Loor made her move.

  She dodged around the green warrior she had been battling and sprinted for the circle. At the same time the red team broke open the circle just long enough for her to run inside. Loor scooped up the necklace and then the entire red team formed a wedge to protect her as they dashed toward their side of the arena. It was like a kickoff return right up the middle where the blockers formed the perfect wedge. They bowled over the green team, who were now so exhausted they could barely lift their clubs. In seconds the red juggernaut, with Loor in the center, rolled into their area, the winners.

  Loor held up the necklace in victory.

  I went nuts. I screamed, I shouted, I jumped up and down and cheered like my team had just won the Super Bowl with a touchdown in OT. It was awesome. Loor was awesome. Agility and skill had triumphed over brawn and might. It was a victory for the little guy and I was loving every minute of it.

  Unfortunately nobody else in the stadium was as excited as I was. Here I was jumping up and down like some crazed fan from the Cleveland Browns Dog Pound, and everyone else just sat there, watching me, wondering who this idiot was who had lost control. Every eye in the stadium was on me, including the warriors down on the field. I felt like a total imbecile.

  “Is this a custom where you come from?” asked Spader, who was just as surprised at my enthusiasm as everyone else in the stadium.

  In fact it was, but that didn’t make this nightmare any easier. I stopped yelling, looked down on to the field and made eye contact with Loor. She too was looking up to see where all the screaming was coming from. She saw me, but at first it didn’t click for her. She was exhausted and still flush from the battle and the victory. Seeing me didn’t compute. It made me feel even worse. She didn’t even know who I was. I felt horrible. Then, a moment later, I saw it in her eyes. She finally recognized me; that’s when something happened that I never would h
ave expected. It was so shocking that I no longer cared about being embarrassed. It just didn’t matter anymore, because as she stood there breathing hard, Loor looked up at me and smiled.

  JOURNAL #7

  (CONTINUED)

  ZADAA

  It was a training exercise,” Loor explained. “All warriors must take part. It is good experience to teach fighting as one, and as a team.” For all of the mayhem she just went through, Loor came out fairly intact. Nothing broken, only a few bruises.

  “Seemed more like football with weapons to me,” I countered.

  Both Loor and Spader gave me blank stares. They had no idea what I meant. That was okay. It didn’t matter.

  The three of us walked along the streets of the desert city, which Loor told us was called Xhaxhu (pronounced Zha-ZHOO). It was the capital city of Zadaa.

  Spader walked behind us with his head down, listening to everything we said. Unlike the other people of Zadaa, he was able to understand her because she was a Traveler. Understanding everyone else would come in time, just as it did for me. I wished that Loor could have seen him the way he was when I first got to Cloral. She would have loved that guy. But as I wrote before, Spader had changed. Okay, he was pretty freaked out about our trip to Zadaa; can’t blame him for that. The death of his father had turned him inside out. I could only hope that at some point he would deal with his anger and become his old self again.

  “Why did you come to Zadaa, Pendragon?” asked Loor.

  “Two reasons,” I said. “Uncle Press and I think we know what Saint Dane is up to on Cloral and we could use your help, big time. The other reason is . . .”

  I looked back at Spader, debating about how much I should blurt out in front of him. I decided it was time to jump in with both feet.

  “The other reason is that Spader’s father was the Traveler from Cloral. He’s dead. Now Spader is the Traveler. The problem is, he has no clue . . . about anything. I’ve got to get him up to speed and I need your help to do it.”

  I looked back to Spader. He had stopped walking and was now staring right at me with confusion and what I thought might be a little bit of fear. I had just hit him with a boatload of information that didn’t compute. Nothing I had just said made any sense to him. That was pretty obvious. Loor turned to him and said, “Tell me what you will remember most about your father.”

  Spader shot her a look. The question surprised him, but he wanted to answer. He looked down, remembering. He then looked back to Loor and said, “He was a great man, a great teacher, and I loved him.” I think he was holding back a ton of emotion.

  Loor touched him on the shoulder and said, “Then you will make a great Traveler. Come with me.”

  She turned and continued walking. Spader looked to me and I saw that the confusion was still there, but the fear was gone. I knew at that moment that coming to see Loor was the best move I could have made.

  Loor took us to her home. The large building was made of the same brown sandstone that all the structures were made of here on Zadaa. It was all on one level, with wooden floors and a thatched roof. The place was big, too. There were many rooms where others lived, like some big, sandy apartment building. Judging from the other muscle-types who were hanging out, I figured this must have been some kind of warrior dormitory. Loor’s space had two rooms—one main room where the cooking was done and another that was a bedroom. The furniture was woven, like wicker. There were a few low chairs and a bed that were plain and simple. A community bathroom outside the apartment had a trough of running water for drinking and washing. Another trough of water that was the sewer ran underground. The place was crude, but efficient.

  The three of us sat in the main room and Loor actually cooked for us. She baked three loaves of very tasty bread and we had crunchy fresh vegetables to go with it. She also gave us a sweet drink that was made from the sap of a tree. It reminded me of coconut. Uncle Press would have loved this. I wondered what he was doing just then, and if he was safe from the raiders on Cloral. But there was nothing I could do about that now, so I tried not to worry.

  As we ate, Loor told us about her life as a warrior in training. She was part of the military here on Zadaa. The apartment she lived in was given to her by the military and she could live there for as long as she served. Because she was so young, she was pretty much a low-level soldier. But she hoped to someday become a leader. I had no doubt she would.

  When we finished eating and cleaning up, we all sat there staring at one another. There was a very big issue hanging in the room and I had no idea how to attack it. Spader did it for me. He had been listening silently to our conversation and finally decided it was time to speak.

  “You called me a Traveler,” he said, breaking the ice. “What does that mean?”

  Loor took the lead. She calmly explained to Spader how every territory had a Traveler who could fly through the flumes. She told him how each territory was about to reach a critical turning point and how it was the job of the Travelers to do all they could to make sure the outcome would keep the territory peaceful. To fail would mean the territory would fall into chaos. She also told him of Saint Dane, the evil Traveler who was working to do the opposite. His goal was to push the territories into bedlam.

  This is where I jumped in. I told Spader that Saint Dane could change the way he looked. On Cloral, he was the pirate Zy Roder. Uncle Press and I felt sure that he was responsible for poisoning the crops. I said how a bad food supply on Cloral would cause a civil war when people fought over the food that was still safe—just the kind of thing Saint Dane would love.

  Loor finished by saying how she and I still didn’t understand why we had been selected to be Travelers, or who it was that chose us. But the job we were given was an important one. She said how the battles with Saint Dane weren’t only about each territory, they were about all of Halla. She explained that Halla was everything—all territories, all people, and all time. Saint Dane’s ultimate goal was to control Halla. The only thing standing in his way were the Travelers. That would be us.

  Spader listened intently. This was some serious stuff we were laying on him. I had no idea how he would react.

  “So?” I asked. “What are you thinking?”

  I could tell he was trying to put this puzzle together in his head but was having trouble getting all the pieces to fit.

  “This is . . . this is a lot,” he said.

  Yeah, no kidding.

  “I’m sorry, mates,” he added. “I’m an aquaneer. I know boats, I know water, I know how to fix them and have some fun along the way. That’s pretty much what my life’s about. But now you’re telling me I’ve got to be responsible for the future of everything? Hobey, I’m not the best choice for that particular job.”

  “Tell me about it,” I threw in. “Neither am I!”

  Loor stood up and took something out of a wicker basket near the fireplace.

  “Do you think your father was someone worthy of being a Traveler?” she asked Spader.

  “Absolutely,” Spader shot back without hesitation.

  Loor handed Spader the item she pulled from the basket. I saw that it was a piece of green paper that was folded in two. It looked like the same kind of paper I was used to writing my Cloral journals on. Spader opened it up to reveal that it was a drawing. Actually, it was half of a drawing. It looked as if it had been ripped in two and this was the left half.

  The drawing was in black ink. There was a solid, horizontal line about a third of the way up from the bottom. Below this line there was another line that started at the bottom near the lower left-hand side and curved up until it hit the right edge of the page, making a quarter of a circle. Above the horizontal line were a bunch of dots sprayed around in no particular pattern. In the upper right-hand corner were a series of five symbols. It looked like they continued on to the right half of the page that had been torn away.

  I had no idea what this half drawing meant, until I noticed something that rocked me. In the upper left-ha
nd corner of the page was a round symbol. It was the exact same symbol with the interlocking letters that was on the note Spader’s father had left for him. I looked to Spader in shock. Spader’s eyes were fixed on the paper. Finally, after an eternity, he whispered,

  “Faar.”

  “Far?” I shot back, my pulse rate spiking through the roof. “Far what?” I looked to Loor and demanded, “Where did you get this?”

  “My mother was a Traveler,” she said calmly. “She knew Spader’s father.”

  Whoa! Major twist.

  “Before I knew of my destiny,” Loor continued, “she returned from one of her travels with this drawing. She told me of a man whom she admired greatly. She said he knew answers when most did not yet know the questions. He had risked his life many times over to find the information on this page. He said it was important to the future of Cloral. But he feared it might be found by those with evil intent. That is why he tore it in two and gave half to my mother. Your father said that his time was growing short, and that his son would carry on his work. He asked my mother to pass this on to his son when he came looking for it. My mother is now dead, Spader. It is my duty to give this to you.”

  This was incredible. The web of Travelers was truly interconnected.

  “This is the same symbol your father left you,” I said to Spader. “If you know what it means, you gotta tell us!”

  Spader stood up and paced. Things were happening too fast for him.

  “It’s a tall tale,” he said nervously. “A children’s story.”

  “What is?” I insisted.

  “Faar!” he snapped back. “It’s a legend. Everybody knows it.”

  “We don’t,” I said.

  “Then I’ll tell you,” he continued. “The symbol represents a mythical city called Faar that was built on the only dry land that existed on Cloral. It was supposed to be this amazing place full of scholars and music and scientists and art, like some kind of perfect place. But there was a tum-tigger of a disaster and this perfect place sank into the sea. The elders of the city saw the disaster coming and prepared for it. Somehow they saved the city, even though it sank into the ocean. The legend says the people of Faar will always live down below the water, secretly protecting all those who live on the habitats above.”